Shellshock
by Stylus of Gold
Summary: Elias Miranda of Biel-Tan was a crystal singer, a technician of sorts. Then one day she was swept up by the draft to a strange world, and nothing was ever the same. Rated M for graphic injury, possible later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1–Left together, Returned alone

Elias Miranda of Biel-Tan was a technician of sorts. She sang to/repaired the crystal matrices which formed the power conduits of the craftworld, making sure the energy which was needed got where it was needed. It was a simple job, but often quite rewarding. She'd found friends in her co-workers Tam and Yurih, and a lover in Tam's sister Toryll. She'd gotten very good at it, one of the best.

Of course, none of that mattered now, because she had been drafted and was now staring death in the face.

She was on some Asuryan-forsaken maiden world, facing down a veritable horde of human settlers carrying crude firearms, she herself carrying naught but a shuriken pistol and a delicately curved sword. Her features were clearly feminine, but otherwise nothing could be discerned beneath her white and green, one-size-fits-all combat armour.

The field was in twilight, with tall grass covering the terrified eldar's approach to the terrified humans as each force sprayed wildly at the other, neither having had more than a few weeks of basic training before heading out.

The storm guardians knew their duty, but they also knew to wait for the signal to strike, lest they be caught unsupported. It was their task to, after providing distraction for the guardian defenders, advance under cover of fire to provide further distraction for the aspect warriors who would then make mincemeat out of the humans, thus spilling a minimum amount of eldar blood.

Of course, with the amount of emplaced guns there were, the autarch had to sacrifice a few lives, and that had been them; the storm guardians. Elias fired off a snap shot before melting back into the grass, where her white armour served to identify her as a target, voiding much of the effectiveness of her cover. However, she thought not of that, merely that she was scared and needed to get away from the gunfire.

There was a body next to her and as she crouched and hid from the gunfire she saw it was eldar. _Tam, _she thought in horror, _this was Tam._

Utter horror washed over her then as she saw her friend Tam, his helmet blown off by a bomb and his arm snapped by gunshots, bones sticking out at drastic, unnatural angles from the crook of his elbow. Blood and other fluids pooled beneath his motionless body from this and several other wounds in his abdomen and chest, soaking his armour, his soulstone, his once-handsome face. His eyes were unfocused, staring at the blue sky above, and Elias felt herself barely able to comprehend the horror before her.

Her head swam, her stomach heaved, her body cramped. She felt her knees buckling, collapsed on the ground, fighting to keep her food down. She lay there, convulsing in her revulsion and terror, until she longed for a quick bullet to the head to end it all.

Elias knew not how long she lay there before she got up, but get up she did, picking her sword off the ground but being unable to find her pistol before a curt order came over the communication lines: "Now!"

Deadened, Elias charged the humans as they ducked their heads to avoid the scatter laser the other guardians had pointed at them. Elias saw her fellow storm guardians rushing up alongside her, saw her beloved Toryll be shot down next to her, then turned to the mon-keigh and saw red.

Howling in anguish and rage, Elias leapt over the sandbags and onto the first mon-keigh, swinging down and shearing through his collarbone. She then stepped forward and hacked wildly at the next, though he warded her off with bayonet till she stepped in, punched him in the face and then swung horizontally as he stumbled back.

The impact jarred her arm as her blade hit his spinal column, but it did not stop. The mon-keigh's head flew to her right, and she cried out in triumph and bloodlust as she literally jumped at the next mon-keigh, tackling him and knocking him back before sticking her blade through his gut.

Unaware of anything but the need to kill, Elias hacked savagely at the next mon-keigh, a woman who had shot her with a pistol, which felt like being punched, but never got the chance to shoot again before Elias' sword chopped her hand off and then swung diagonally up into her jaw.

Turning to find more, Elias had just a split second to register fear again before three mon-keigh gunned her down.

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There she lay, in a pool of her own blood, every part of her in agony from the multiple gunshots.

The bloodlust in her had ebbed as quickly as it had risen, and she lay there wondering what she had become. Had she become an animalistic beast? A monster which revelled in death and bloodshed? Did it matter, now that she was dying, as Tam had died? As her beloved Toryll had died?

She watched as the green figures –the striking scorpions– burst from the grass and slaughtered the humans like so many lambs. As one of them picked her up and brought her back, still conscious but numb to the world, into the field hospital.

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She awoke to find herself in the craftworld, the high, vaulted wraithbone walls white as the bed she lay in. She was good as new physically, but as the enormity of what had happened dawned on her, she let out a wail of anguish that was echoed for hours after she had been drugged back asleep. She knew not that her cry was echoed not by the walls, but by dozens of other survivors of the battle, their own experiences no less terrible than her own.

Within a week, they had let her out of the hospital. She knew then there was only one place for her to go: To the infinity circuit. To Toryll.

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She stood in the twilight world within the craftworld, touching the soulstone of her lover as it slowly absorbed into one of the great wraithbone spires which supported the domed ceiling above. She had never had any significant psychic talent, but she knew at least how to contact such a recently-deceased soul.

Toryll stood before her. She had a shortish, stocky frame for an eldar and sharply slanted, auburn eyes. Her hair was short and ginger, her face round but not quite plump. Her ears were less pointed than normal and her breasts were small. Her skin was a bronzed pigment and somewhat rough for an eldar.

Her expression was one of scornful detachment, not at all like the last time Elias had seen her alive. Toryll, or Toryll's ghost, said in a harsher tone than she usually took "Who are you? What is it you want?"

Taken aback by this, Elias ventured "I am Elias. Do you not recognize me?" tears welling in her own blue eyes. "Ah," responded Toryll, "It is you. I apologize for my confusion," though her tone was still the harsh, distant one it had been before.

Elias broke down and started to weep. Toryll stood there, impassive, as Elias choked out "I don't know what to do. Without you," she sobbed, "without Tam, what will I do?" she pleaded, hoping against hope that Toryll would have some miracle answer. Toryll was always so much smarter than her, she always knew what to do. Toryll responded, her voice still distant, with only the faintest flicker of emotion betrayed by it "You will move on. You will find other friends, other lovers, and you will one day be happy. That is all."

Elias wept and wept until she could weep no more. She did not even notice when Toryll, or what was left of her, disappeared, leaving her alone once again.

* * *

AN: mon-keigh literally means mammal, and is somewhat of a derogatory eldar term for humans.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2–The scars that war leaves us**

Elias woke in her bed. It was still quite dark, indicating that the arbitrarily decided on day-night cycles of the craftworld were still in the "night" phase. Toryll was at the foot of the bed and approached Elias slowly, and Elias sat up, smiling.

Toryll sat down on the bed, began crawling sultrily up to her and stopped, her face just above Elias'. But Elias could not see her face, because both she and Toryll were in their battle armour, and as she looked up she saw the bullet-holes in Toryll's chest and abdomen. Looking down on herself, she saw she too was full of wounds, blood seeping onto her bedsheets.

She looked up at Toryll. Her eyepieces betrayed not the slightest hint of emotion, but Elias could feel the rage within Toryll as her right hand shot out and closed around Elias' throat.

Panic mounted in Elias as Toryll squeezed harder and harder, pushing her back and pinning her against the wall as she snarled "Why? We had the same wounds, why did you live and I die?"

Elias felt as if she knew the answer, but couldn't say it. The hand choked her ever harder until her head swam and she blacked out.

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Elias awoke with a scream. It was light out, but she stayed in, shaking all over. The miracles of eldar medicine had allowed her to heal the bullet-wounds with no superficial scars at all, but had not saved her from the mental scars war left her. _Why did I live and she die? _she wondered hopelessly,_ Why not have _me_ die instead?_

After several minutes of this sort of thought, Elias got up. Her apartment was a small thing like most homes on Biel-Tan: A bed, a dresser with a mirror and personal hygiene supplies, a closet and a door, all white but for the dresser, which was blue and the bedsheets, which were aqua. She walked over to the dresser and put on her clothes: A simple grey shift and a high-collared red dress.

Elias was a petite woman with rounded blue eyes, shoulder length chestnut hair, smooth pale skin and a sharply angled face.  
She was also a mess. After over a hundred day-night cycles, she had to conclude that Toryll's prediction had been completely inaccurate. Her job held no pleasure for her and her temperament had gotten more vicious as of late. She'd made no new friends, alienated some of her old ones and her life seemed to have become just one tragedy after another: her mother had died in a webway accident, her brother was rendered comatose by his seer training and she'd become more and more the recluse.

She felt she needed to find some way out of this downward spiral, anything would do. She had walked the path of the outcast once in her adolescence, she could do it again. But something in her dreams told her otherwise.

She'd dreamed often about the battle, and certain things were always at the forefront: the rush of pleasure she felt as she decapitated the human, the moment of fear she'd felt just before they'd gunned her down, Toryll's head jerking back as she fell dead beside her, Tam's mutilated corpse. And the moment when the green-armoured aspect warriors swooped in and saved her.  
That she remembered, curiously, with a sort of illogical fondness. She realized that in that moment she had felt destiny grip her, or at least she'd felt somehow safe in that moment; bullets riddling her body, being lifted out of a pool of her own blood, she'd somehow felt safe.

Elias was very much a mystic; she believed in fate and destiny, and she felt that unless she could find her true path, she would self-destruct completely and be left a withered husk, living a half-life.

And so to that end, she went against all advice and all logic and resigned from her post that very morning with naught but a recorded message dropped off at the humble, unassuming crystal-singer HQ, leaving the path of the crystal-singer behind her for a new one, a path that would take her back into the jaws of war to find her destiny, or so she thought.

And so that morning, she approached the cathedral of Khaine.

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The cathedral of Khaine was a truly awe-inspiring structure. Hexagonal it was, painted red all over, it's six spires twisting up into the top of the craftworld, each bearing the symbol of one of the phoenix lords: Asurmen the hand of Asuryan, Baharroth the cry of the wind, Fuegan the burning lance, Jain Zar the storm of silence, Maugan Ra the harvester of souls and Karandras the shadow hunter, though Karandras had the symbol of his predecessor Arha imposed behind his. This was unique to Biel-Tan: they despised Arha for his betrayal but unlike the other craftworlds still respected him for his creation of the striking scorpion aspect.

The temple's main structure was a huge dome which belittled every other freestanding structure in the craftworld; freestanding buildings themselves being reserved mostly for religious and governmental buildings.

Within the building there were three lesser yet still quite imposing spires which jutted out in a triangular formation for those aspects lacking a phoenix lord: The warp spiders, shining spears and crimson hunters. These too touched the ceiling of the craftworld, for though these aspects were younger, they were no lower in honour than the other aspects.

In the centre of the building was the central spire: the spire of Khaine. This spire was quite slender, as only eight were permitted to enter: the phoenix lords (though it had been decades since a phoenix lord had been seen in Biel-Tan), the medium; a seer dedicated to performing the ritual of awakening and the young king, who would go to the top of the spire in preparation for the ritual which would take place accompanied by the court of the young king beneath the cathedral in the craftworld's heart.

Elias knew all of this, it was part of the education of every eldar child on Biel-Tan, as well as discipline, history, literature, sciences and the basics of combat. She had set foot many times before in the cathedral of Khaine, but ever through the main entrance, never through the Gate of Warriors.

The Gate of Warriors was an ornate piece, painted in a red-orange pattern that gave the impression of a gate of fire. It was attended by two warlocks, one of whom would stop all who attempted to enter and were not already on the warrior path. There they would administer the first of the Tests of the Warrior, a psychic screening which some part of Elias hoped she failed.

Elias took a deep breath. _This is destiny,_ she thought, _I am destined to go through these doors._ Still, some part of her hoped she was wrong, wished she would fail the test, walk away from these doors and never turn back. She could again walk the path of the outcast, go see the galaxy, maybe find her destiny out there. But she had walked that path before and found nothing but sorrow in it for her, and had returned in short order.

Elias reached the gate. She presented herself to the first warlock, who wore a ceremonial white flowing robe with green rune armour and had an ornate green helm and elaborate sheath at his belt which held his not-so-ceremonial witchblade.

She approached him, shoulders straight, eyes forward, and as his head turned she said the ritual words "I am Elias Miranda and I wish to walk the path of Khaela Mansha Khaine. I have walked the path of the outcast, the administrator, the artisan and the crystal-singer and have found them wanting," though that was not entirely true. It was the ritual saying, but in reality the artisan path had found her wanting, and the crystal-singer path simply held too much pain for her now. The administrator path she really had found wanting in everything that wasn't boring, tedious monotony. She continued, "And now I wish to serve my craftworld as a warrior. Do you deny me?" it was a challenge, a ritual statement of intent and of defiance.

It was also the first part of the test: a nigh-impossible attempt to impose one's will upon a warlock, daring him to not let you in as if there was something you could do about it if he did not. Though none but a phoenix lord or a farseer could deny the word of these warlocks once their decision was made, this defiant challenge helped the warlock determine your strength of will; something extremely important for anyone walking the warrior path.

The warlock gazed long and hard at her, his expression concealed beneath the ornate helm her wore. He sized her up physically; this was the second part of the ritual. She knew her strengths and weaknesses: she was about as strong as someone her size could be, moderately fast, with a sound constitution which had allowed her to survive all those bullets and was quite flexible. However, she had little in the way of fine motor skills, the reach of her arm was sorely lacking, her mass was not exactly overpowering and she had somewhat poor eyesight.

The warlock nodded and said "Your body is that of a warrior. Now all that remains is to determine if your mind can be too," these were again ritual words, words which indicated she was passing on to the last, and most important, part of the test.

Elias steeled herself for the final part of the ritual: the psychic probing which would determine if her mind could be made into that of a warrior. The warlock reached out his long-fingered, bony, splotched hand and delicately placed it on her forehead. They looked into each others eyes, and Elias felt her whole life being wrenched out and observed, analyzed and judged.

All of her life flashed before her in that instant. The happy dream that was her childhood, so much of it forgotten after a mere century or so of existence, but now brought up and judged by a mind as far above her own as hers was above a human's: the mind of a seer. Those memories were cast aside as of little relevance and she lost them to the river of time as she had lost them before, the details of her early years slipping through her fingers suddenly as they had once done gradually, leaving her with a profound sense of loss, as though she had lost a part of herself forever.

The years of her adolescence were upon them then. Her foolish dalliance with Romall which had eventually led to her self-imposed exile from Biel-Tan. The rashness which had drove her to set out on the path of the outcast after his betrayal: an old wound which was now opened anew and allowed to return to it's full, heartbreaking proportions before being crassly cast aside like some irrelevant footnote.

The warlock explored with her the time when her first path became that of the outcast; first her travels through the webway with naught but a pistol, a knife, some rations, extra clothes, her education and several phrasebooks, as well as a woefully outdated map of the webway which she hoped wouldn't lead her astray, then the year when she was lost in the webway, her close brushes with starvation, devouring and commoragh slavers, and finally her falling in with a group of corsairs who dropped her off among the exodites, where she lived three years, picking up the skills of the wild but never truly becoming one of them.

After three years of such a primitive existence, Elias had returned to the webway and wandered again for a time, occasionally stopping at a known safe world and once being chased by humans and having to destroy the portal she came through to avoid capture.

She'd found herself to be quite resourceful during that time, a trait which the warlock picked up on and homed in on, but also rather reckless, often having to think her way out of situations which could easily have been avoided if she had taken a little more care.

In time, she'd found herself in the company of a few other outcasts and travelled with them to a place called by the natives Bork'an, apparently part of a fledgeling empire which had acquired a great deal of technological knowledge in a short time. She had fallen in with another one of the outcasts named Loren of Alaitoc, but that had lasted only a couple short months.

She had always been linguistically gifted, and after a short time found herself acting as translator for her group, something which the warlock barely noticed, but he took a keen interest in the uneasy feeling she felt around the natives, who despite being agreeable folk for the most part gave her the chills, particularly around their ruling cast.

Feeling unfulfilled by this nomadic existence, she had at last returned to her craftworld and there taken the first position available to a linguistically gifted young woman: That of a low level administrator, a record-keeper who could barely be called a bureaucrat. The warlock seemed oddly pleased to note that her time there had been miserable; that she had felt more unfulfilled than ever and was happy to be rid of such a dull path, which somewhat incensed Elias.

She had blossomed into a full-grown woman then before moving onto the path of the artisan, but she had found that frustrated her too. The warlock dismissed her failures in that path as irrelevant compared to the fact that she kept at it for five years, something he noted with approval which further incensed Elias. _That was one of the greatest mistakes of my life!_ she thought, _Five years of failure, five years of my life wasted and all he gives is mild approval at my "perseverance"?_

Looking upon her past as it lay sprawled out before her she came to the conclusion that if this smug warlock would not allow her into the cathedral, then she would return to the path of the outcast; besides the last few years that had been the one time she had been happy, if somewhat unfulfilled.

He then came upon the falling out she'd had with her superior and her subsequent leaving of the artisan path. At the time she'd been overwhelmed by the weight of what she saw as defeat. Now she looked back on it as one of the best decisions of her life, but the Warlock saw it only as insubordination.

Next, they came upon the twenty-five years as crystal-singer. She'd ascended to the highest position one could achieve without being consumed by the crystal-singer path, found friends and for a while was truly happy. She'd found her element and excelled, and three years in had found Toryll. The warlock was as impassive to her happiness as he'd been to her sorrow, and all too soon had cast aside the best part of her life as irrelevant.

Finally, he came upon the battle and began picking apart her every decision. He looked with distaste at how she'd been so afraid but seemed understanding somehow, examined her use of available cover with mixed approval and reproach, lauded her instinct which had kept her wound-free till the final stages, shook his metaphysical head at her nausea at the sight of Tam then recalled who it was and shrugged. Finally, he seemed quite pleased by the bloodlust which had so terrified Elias and the instinctive skill at hand-to-hand combat she seemed to possess.

In an instant, it was over. He'd seen her life, seen her nature, seen straight into her soul. She had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, and took a step back to try to break the connection with this warlock.

Stepping back, Elias realized she was shaking all over from rage, revulsion and anticipation. _Who is he to judge me? she thought angrily, To look at my life and decide which parts are "relevant"? _  
The answer was obvious to her: he was the guardian of the gate, that was his job, but she still resented being judged so callously. She also knew she'd failed. He'd declared nigh half her life to be irrelevant, and the rest had been, in his books, naught but fear, insubordination, combat paralysis and poor judgement. There was no way he'd let her into the cathedral.

"Enter, young one. May you find your destiny in the heart of war," the warlock proclaimed, derailing Elias' train of thought. As she entered the cathedral, still stunned that the warlock let her in, some part of her wondered why she felt no rush of elation nor any great joy upon entering.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3–Welcome to your new life**

Elias entered the cathedral of Khaine through the Warrior's Gate. Within was the massive central chamber of the cathedral where civilians were occasionally allowed in through the main gate. Six towering, ten meter high statues on fifteen meter pedestals flanked the rectangular room which she knew could not take up more than half the total volume of the cathedral, on one side stood Fuegan, Baharroth and Asurmen, on the other side stood Maugan Ra, Karandras and Jain Zar, all painted in the colours of their aspects.

Facing the door was the thirty meter statue of Khaine, rendered in a red and orange blend that made it appear it was made of magma, just as the true avatar of Khaine deep under the cathedral. The domed ceiling was covered in mosaics depicting the greatest battles of the phoenix lords: the battle of Lugganath, where it was said that Maugan Ra, Karandras and Asurmen banded together to beat back the ork warlord Gitsmasha and his seemingly endless horde and saved the craftworld, the battle of Hammerfell where all six arrived together for the last time to save the Swordwind from the combined might of six space marine chapters, and many others which Elias did not recognize.

In front of the statue of Khaine stood a dire avenger exarch who would inform them of the next step. Elias was one of four people in the cathedral, one of whom was walking towards the statue of Fuegan, behind which was the entrance to the fire dragon's area. She walked along the red, seemingly bloodstained carpet up to the exarch.

The exarch stood before them, gazing down at the three arrayed in front of him from the raised pulpit just before the statue of Khaine. His armour was splendid, a deep blue with a white helm, an elaborate yellow-and-purple crest and runes covering every inch of it. On his breast was attached his soul stone, a small red oval which glinted in the light coming in from the massive window above the main gate. Attached to his wrists were a pair of shuriken catapults, and on his belt was sheathed a long knife.  
His eyes concealed behind the harsh red glow of his eyepieces, he addressed Elias and her fellows.  
"Welcome," he began, his clear, strong voice echoing throughout the chamber, "You have all been accepted by the warlocks, yes?"  
"We have!" responded the trainees, Elias included, and the exarch continued on, "Then welcome to the cathedral of Khaine. Tomorrow, you shall take your vows here. Until then, you will dwell in the quarters of the uninitiated. You are not to speak with the novices until you have been initiated. You are not to enter the warrior shrines. You are not to fight each other," he said, eying each of them, "until you have been initiated. You are not to leave the cathedral lest you leave the path of the warrior. Find your quarters, find your new belongings, and welcome to your new life," he finished, sounding as if he had delivered this spiel a thousand times before.

As she approached the door to the novice area, which was on the left of the statue of Khaine, Elias took stock of the other novices. One was a large, strapping man with huge hands and a round face. He walked clumsily, however, and seemed none too quick. The other was a tall, gangly man who moved with poise and grace. As she took stock of them, she realized they were taking stock of each other too. When the tall one looked at her, he made a contemptuous expression, but the large one raised an eyebrow and asked "Hello. I'm Khail. Who are you?" in a straightforward, honest-sounding voice.  
Elias responded "Elias Miranda," and the other one "I'm Seth," with an inflexion that implied nobility, or at least superiority, "So Elias. I guess we just lost a major battle if they're that desperate for new aspect warriors," Elias rolled her eyes. She didn't have to take this from him. _Then again,_ she thought, _I'm hardly warrior material. Maybe they really are desperate for recruits?_

The three continued, through the door and into a large dormitory. Within were some twenty other eldar, for the most part sitting around, talking, playing cards or meditating. Elias recognized one, Reyela, but she there was nothing but mild distaste between her and Reyela and she thus kept her distance, instead wandering the red-walled room to find a bunk. She sat there on the bottom bunk, trying to meditate as she had been taught to do since before she could remember, to clear her mind of her worry, her bitterness, and the memory of Toryll. But her memories tormented her hour after hour, and eventually her meditation turned to rumination, and then to brooding, and finally to sleep.

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Elias was no great dancer. Nonetheless this night had been one of the best of her life. She was across from Toryll, who was clad in garments which seemed to shift under Elias' gaze, all she could remember was that it was metallic, it was elegant, and she wouldn't be wearing it by the end of the night.

They danced together, lively and unrestrained this one day of the year: the festival of Isha. The whole craftworld was in an uproar of activity, and Toryll had invited Elias to this place for a dance and Elias, by now quite smitten with her, had come eagerly, forgetting that she hadn't danced in years.

Nonetheless, despite a few slip-ups, they had enjoyed themselves as the dance grew faster. In, out, around, back, spinning faster and faster, breaking away, coming back together, they'd gotten quite the feel for each other. Toryll broke contact with one hand and spun out of Elias' embrace in her enchanting manner, then her head jerked back and she fell, blood spurting from bulletholes riddling her body.

Elias, shocked, collapsed down, cupped Toryll's face in her hands, and choked out "No! Please, don't leave me!"  
But it was not Toryll who lay there, but the human woman Elias had killed, who pushed her off with the stump that had once been her wrist. Then she spoke to Elias with hate flowing from her voice, "Hah! You think you know pain? Did you know I had a husband? I had two beautiful children who'll never see me again, thanks to you. Oh right, they're dead too. Your ilk murdered my children, and now you feel sorry for your self cause your girlfriend got shot up? Look up! See what sympathy you deserve!"

Elias looked up, saw three humans point automatic rifles at her, screamed, and was gunned down.

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Elias awoke in a cold sweat. She didn't remember falling asleep and looking around could tell it was still nighttime. None save her were awake, and she tried for hours to get back to sleep, eventually falling into a deep, dreamless slumber.

Awaking, she saw that the others had gotten up too. She noticed that there was not much to do in this room: there was a journal-pad and stylus in her footlocker, a few tables, games of chance and logic, some exercise equipment, but otherwise not much to do in this dormitory which was to be their home for the next couple days.

She sat down at a table and set up domka-mei. Domka-mei was a complex game with a great deal of strategy involved and no luck. Her luck had been less than amazing lately and she wanted something which didn't involve it. The game involved two players and twelve different pieces: guardians, who had very limited moves, dire avengers, who moved in simple, straight lines, shining spears, who could move extremely far, the autarch who could move like any three pieces other than the crimson hunter (decided on at the beginning of the game) and the farseer, who all the other pieces acted to protect or to threaten, as well as others.

It was a game that took years to even learn how to play half-decently, never mind master it. But Elias enjoyed it, and waited there till after a minute or two a man sat down in front of her. He was tall, lithe and handsome, with long blond hair, a smooth, attractive face and big blue eyes. He wore a smug smile which put Elias off but she decided not to let that bug her. She at least had the discipline to do that, even now.

"Were you waiting for someone in particular?" he asked, and his tone was also something Elias found off-putting, as if he knew something she didn't and was very proud of it. "No," responded Elias, "I'm just waiting for an opponent," she finished, carefully not using the term partner. She wanted to beat someone or at least compete with them, not play with them. "Well," he responded, "you have one, I'm Eridas," he continued, "but what, might I ask, is a pretty girl like you doing in this barracks?"

_What am I doing here? _she wondered, _I should be avoiding war, not seeking it out! I did my time, fought for the craftworld, why am I here? Plus, it's like he said. I'm a pretty little girl, not the kind of person you'd think would be a warrior…_  
"Hey," he inquired, "are you mute or something?" the joking tone in his voice caused Elias to snap "It's none of your business!" She slammed her card down where she'd ticked the boxes for warp spider, shining spear and striking scorpion for her autarch and make the first move: a bold, aggressive initiation with one of her guardians.  
"Well," he said, mockingly putting on a tone of hurt and putting down a card with shining spear, fire dragon and dark reaper ticked on it, "then I suppose I ought to just play," and he made his first move: a more cautious guardian advance to her left.

She became somewhat more focused on the game, though she was still distracted and very annoyed with him. He was definitely not going easy on her, and was giving her a very hard time when she suddenly noticed pressure on her right thigh and, looking down, saw that he had his hand resting gently on it. She lowered her left hand, reached down, and, scowling, slowly plucked it off with all the distaste as one plucking off some irritating insect. Then she said "Keep your hands to yourself," and made her next move. "Ooh," he said, smiling mockingly, "I'm so so sorry," and made his move, putting her crimson hunter into a rather inescapable situation, even for a piece as mobile as it.

Six minutes later, she'd lost, though she'd known it ten turns in advance. He was very methodical, very cautious in his strategy. She challenged him to a rematch. "Let's make a wager," he offered with a grin on his face, "If I win, you have to kiss me on the cheek," scoffing, she replied "and if I win?"  
"Well then, I suppose if you win you get the privilege of kissing me on the cheek!"  
Elias sighed, rolled her eyes, and got up. She wasn't going to put up with this jerk any longer.

She sat down on her bunk, trying again to meditate as she'd been taught to do so many times, failing again. Then she heard a voice and opened her eyes. "Hey," looking up, she saw Eridas there and closed her eyes again, "I'm sorry 'bout that," he said apologetically, "I… I'd like to play a game against you when you're not… distracted and pissed off," she looked up, half-smiled, and ready to give this Eridas person another chance, said "You're on."

This time she played less aggressively. She was in fact pretty good at this game, and could tell he was a cautious player, and so she wasn't afraid to plan ahead several moves in advance. Of course, she wasn't nearly as good as Toryll had been, but nonetheless now that she was focusing solely on the game she managed to beat Eridas without much difficulty.

"Well," he conceded at the outset of the game, "I guess that's that then. Nice use of the striking scorpion shining spear combination there, by the way," she smiled smugly and responded "Thank you. I do things better when it's professional, you see," he nodded slowly and departed, heading towards the exercise equipment.

Elias sat there for a moment, and Seth walked past, then stopped. He looked at the board, looked up at her, and said somewhat incredulously "Wow. You actually beat Eridas at… anything. That's the last time though, so savour it," and Seth (who she was now thinking was even worse than Eridas) strode off to talk with someone, Elias really didn't care who. She was ticked off and frustrated. _When,_ she wondered, _did I start with all these mood swings? I used to not let people get to me, but now? I let a guy spoil my victory with one snide remark!_

Waiting there for quite some time, Elias eventually got up and challenged some random woman to a game, and the other woman accepted shyly, saying "Al-alright," and got up off her bunk, following Elias to the table. "I'm Elias," she said, "Who are you?" the woman bit her lips, then said "I'm– I'm Niana"  
Niana was tall, graceful-looking, and fair, with long, tied back brown hair and striking green eyes which were perpetually downcast.  
She played like someone who had little idea what she was doing, and within six moves Elias had won. Niana then asked, quite quietly, if Elias could teach her how to do that.

So, for quite some time, Elias taught Niana what she knew; how pieces interacted, good opening moves, and most of all how to read your opponent. After a couple hours, Niana was… about as good as she'd been before, though Elias assured her that this game took years to learn how to play well and that she was making progress.

Food was brought in: synthesized semi-organic protein rations made to taste like once-living material, served with a packet of mineral-enriched water. They looked like small, flabby white bricks wrapped in a hard wax exterior. The servitor explained to them that these were field rations and they needed to get used to them. Elias ate hers quickly, wanting to get it down as quickly as possible for the texture was awful. She washed it down, and then got back to teaching Niana, thoroughly hoping she wouldn't have to subsist on that protein stuff permanently.

Eventually, after what seemed to be an eternity, that first day ended. She'd played several games with the others and then spent a some time actually meditating successfully (It seemed her time with Niana had calmed her nerves a bit).

Her sleep was fretful, and she awoke in the middle of the night multiple times, though she had no recollection of what came to pass that night in the twilight realm of the dreaming. The next day, she got up along with the others and made ready: it was time for initiation!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4–Forged from fire**

All the novices filed out into the main chamber at the sound of a gong. Sitting in the pews benches, they watched as a dire avenger exarch recited Asurmen's speech to Biel-Tan at the birth of the swordwind, nearly ten thousand years ago.

"The stars once lived and died at our command. Since our fall, our aspect warriors have defended the craftworlds, but now that the upstart mon-keigh have risen up that is no longer enough! Of all the craftworlds, Biel-Tan has been the most faithful in upholding the teachings of the disciples of Khaela Mansha Khaine, and so shall you be the instrument of our empire's rebirth!" as he spoke, he reminded the listeners of a time when the Phoenix Lords had been charismatic leaders, rather than stone-faced watchers, of a time when the empire's rebirth had truly seemed something which non-farseers might see within their lifetimes. Now that dream was no longer so sure, that beacon of hope not nearly so bright, yet they still saw it, still clung to it.  
For the eldar of Biel-Tan, who had held this torch for nigh ten thousand years of slow decline after their meteoric rise at the outset of Asurmen's crusade, who had watched as one by one, every other craftworld had turned their backs on them, this dream was all they had left to, as a culture, keep them going.

The exarch continued, "The mon-keigh have a new leader and a new elite army, one which dwarfs any the aspect warriors have faced! In the face of these new warriors, we must have an elite army of our own, unstoppable, resolute, and wholly committed to the re-creation of the empire! They shall be forged in fire, they shall fear no foe, they shall never stop fighting till the empire, like the mighty phoenix, rises anew! They shall set upon the foe with a fury unknown since the rage of mighty Khaine! They shall be the Swordwind, and theirs shall be the fury of the stars!"

A cheer rose up, some because they were stirred, others because it was simply the thing to do. Elias was not really sure which group she belonged to.  
The exarch continued, his voice echoing in the great chamber, "You are the next generation of the Swordwind. For ten thousand years we have done battle, and become feared across the length and breadth of the galaxy by all who face us. This is because we have remembered the old ways! While other craftworlds have grown soft, we have never forgotten that a warrior must be forged from fire! That they must be destroyed and reborn like the phoenix itself! And so, welcome to the fire! Welcome to the first warrior trial!"

Everyone was stunned. No-one said anything about the warrior trials starting yet; today was supposed to just be initiation! But now the exarch was speaking again, urging all of them to follow him as aspect warriors emerged from their shrines to take the confused pre-novices into a door built into the statue of Khaine itself.

The room before her and the other trainees was something out of a nightmare. It was a deep burning read and a bright blazing orange, dozens of chains hung from the ceiling, there was a large, primitive pulley mechanism attached to the chains and in the centre there was the brass face of Khaine, it's great maw gaping open as if to swallow any who fell into it. four symbols were arrayed in a diamond around the maw, symbols of the fire dragon aspect.

Within were three fire dragons and an exarch, their armours matching the room around them. The exarch surveyed the recruits, then loudly said "Welcome! Welcome to the first of the warrior trials: the Baptism of Fire! After you have passed, you can be initiated and finally don the title of novice and take your first steps along the warrior path!" He carried a large sphere in both hands which seemed to emit an eery glow, and as he spoke it seemed to pulse with energy.

The warriors walked to each of the glyphs.. The exarch placed the pulsing orb in a slot at the centre of the maw, and as he left it and took his place at the glyph nearest the trainees a great fire erupted within the maw.

The blazing inferno in front of them cast a new, more fierce light over the room, it's tendrils lashing out at the trainees but falling short as it writhed, seemingly wanting to devour every one of them in fiery anticipation! The heat was scorching, and the trainees as one took a step back. The exarch turned to face them, and commanded "You are to walk to the other side, and meet up with my second-in-command, Jael. You are not to call out to the others, you are not to stop. You are to go in one-by-one. Failure to do so will result in your failing the trial," and, seeing the shocked expression on the trainees faces, asked "So, whose first?"

This can't be real, Elias thought, this is just a test to get us to overcome fear and trust our superior officers, we'll go in, and find that it's just fake fire, but a part of her was still paralyzed at the thought of charging into that inferno.

Then, before Elias knew what was happening, she saw Eridas run headlong into the inferno, heard his grunt of pain, then saw him disappear into the maw of fire. Then she heard his scream of agony, echoing in the room as all the other trainees fell silent.  
"Next trainee," the exarch ordered, and Seth asked "Did he get across? What happened?" but the exarch merely stated "Next trainee," and another trainee, blond and lean, turned a smile to Reyela, said "Wish me luck," and charged into the fire. They heard his scream a mere half-second later. "Brother!" cried Reyela in anguish, but the exarch merely stated "Next trainee," and none stepped forward.

_This can't be real, _Elias thought to herself as the world began to spin around her, _this can't be! _for before her eyes the sparks and shifting tides of the flame turned into muzzle flashes, the roaring fire turned to roaring gunfire, the rising smoke turned to muzzle smoke, and she once again felt the pain of being shot. Her knees began to shake, her eyes widened, nausea swept over her and it was all she could do to not pitch forward and vomit.

Then it was over and three more had ran forward through the flames, their screams echoing for a moment before dying away. She extended her hand out and felt the flames heat, drew away. If this fire was false, it sure was convincing. Another ran in, another screamed. "An aspect warrior," said the exarch, "must trust his commanding officer and the farseer, even if it means certain death," and Elias closed her eyes. She took a deep breath in, hearing the other trainees shuffle around her, each wondering who would go in next, and she exhaled sharply, sprinting forward. Her mind was blank, she knew not why, but her's was not to question why. Hers was but to do and die.

Pain. Searing, boiling pain. She screamed out, but kept running, as to turn around would be to face death as a coward, and she had lost enough of herself already without becoming a coward. She wondered, for just a moment, what Toryll would think of her now. She'd probably think Elias was mad. Then she emerged from the fires and the pain was gone. She opened her eyes.

The other trainees were standing there, for the most part recovering from the shock, next to the fire dragon on the other side of the inferno. Elias looked down at herself and saw that there were no burns, no marks of any kind. Her baptism of fire was now merely a slowly-fading memory of pain.

One more came through. The rest she never saw again: taken off the path and left standing outside the cathedral, the word "Coward" ringing in their ears.

As for Elias and the others, their trials were just beginning.


End file.
